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Saturday, October 6, 2012

The Other Terry

Terry Schiavo was diagnosed as being in a persistent vegetative state but
her parents fought from 1998 to 2005 to keep
her alive. Michael Schiavo, her husband, had gotten on with a new life with
another woman and children. He won in court to have her feeding tube removed so
Terry died from starvation on March 31, 2005.

There is
another Terry; this one a young man, also diagnosed as being in a persistent
vegetative state after a car accident in 1984. For nineteen years, many people
wondered why his parents did not just get on with their lives. But two years
before the other Terry died, he surprised everyone. Here is his
mother’s story, as told to me by

Angilee Wallis.

The Most Beautiful Word

“Please God, let my son
live,” I pleaded during the hour-long drive to the hospital. All I knew was that Terry and his friend,
Lowell “Chubs”, had been in a terrible car accident early that Saturday morning
in July of 1984. My son was just
eighteen with a wife and beautiful six-week old baby girl, Amber.

Since we had no phone at that time, a neighbor had come over to tell me the
hospital was trying to contact us. There had been a bad accident.My husband Jerry was out on errands with our
other two sons, Perry, and George, ages seventeen and ten.Terry’s place was about a mile away, so I
drove over to break the news to his wife, Sandy. Chub’s wife, was there
also.With a car full of family members,
we sped off to the hospital in a panic. We prayed unceasingly, pleading for the lives of Terry and Chubs.My shock prevented any tears. I could not
believe this was happening to us.

We lived a simple but happy life in a modest, two-bedroom house in
Marshall, Arkansas.The two youngest
boys lived at home while my daughter Tammy and Terry both lived close by with
their spouses. Jerry worked as a mechanic and I had been employed at a shirt
factory for eight years.

When we reached the hospital, we were told the boys had both been taken by
helicopter to Springfield Hospital, the trauma center three hours away.We got back into the car for the longest
drive of my life.

At the trauma center, we were taken aside and filled in.Terry had a brain stem injury.This meant paralysis was a possibility.He had been given medication to reduce his
brain swelling, but the swelling continued.

“There will be machines and a lot of tubes,” the nurse explained.“Terry has been given medication for pain and
is not awake.It is possible he might be
able to hear you, so remain calm.We do
not want to upset him further in any way.”As I walked into the room and saw all the tubes and machines, my emotions
spilled out.I quickly stepped back
out.Shaking, crying, and gasping for
air, I tried hard to get myself under control.

Taking deep breaths to calm myself, I walked over to Terry’s bedside.Love and fear overwhelmed me as I looked at
my son lying unconscious.Yet, seeing
him gave me hope.The only physical sign
of the accident was a cut over his eye that required three stitches.Terry’s arms were twisting back and forth.“Isn’t that good?” I asked the nurse when I
saw his arms moving.“He can’t be
paralyzed if his arms are moving.”

The nurse explained that twitching arms were a reaction to his brain
swelling and it was not a good sign.I
swallowed hard but could not stop my tears.I touched his hand and struggled to keep my voice steady. “Terry, hang
in there. I love you and I’m going to be here for you.”His wife also touched his hand and talked to him reassuringly.I looked at my boy who had always been so healthy
and energetic, lying there with tubes going into him.“This can’t be,” I thought.But I could only pray that Terry would
recover. Chubs did not make it.

It was still possible that Terry could die also. For several days the
doctors tried in vain to stop his brain from swelling. Day after day the only
word was: “We don’t know what the extent of his injuries will be.”

But whatever kind of life Terry would have, as his mother--the one who gave
him life--I would be there for him. For weeks I slept on a couch in a waiting
room.Jerry came often with the other
kids.Together, we kept praying and
reassuring Terry to hang in there.

After a few weeks, Sandy and I worked out a routine taking turns at Terry’s
side. Towards the end of October, the doctor told us that there was no longer any
reason to keep Terry in the hospital. The doctors could do no more for him.

Terry was still in a coma and was placed in a nursing home two hours away
from our house. At this point, some people questioned if perhaps it would have
been better for Terry to have died in the accident. If he never came out of the
coma, was my desire to keep him alive selfish?I did not want to let him go, and yet, what did Terry want?

I asked God what He wanted.“Lord, I
love Terry and I want you to heal him, but your will be done,” I prayed. “I
trust in you, God.”In the midst of my
pain, I began to feel some peace. If Terry continued to live, it would be
because God wanted it.

I returned to work, where I had been given a leave of absence, but I spent
every other weekend at the nursing home. As Christmas neared that first year
after the accident, I could not imagine a family celebration without
Terry.I wanted him home.Since he was still in a coma, there was great
concern that this would be too difficult.I was scared but I was also determined; Terry needed to be home during
Christmas.

Terry’s feeding tube was removed shortly after Thanksgiving.I watched the nurses feed him with a syringe
and decided I could manage.Staff from
the nursing home helped us carry Terry into the car.Family and friends helped us carry him into
the house once we got him home.

In the familiar setting of home and surrounded by family and friends, loved
ones came by to wish Terry a Merry Christmas. Everyone talked to him as if he
were the old Terry.He was still in a
coma, but I believed he had to know the difference between being in the nursing
home and being at home.I could not
prove it, but I felt it with my whole heart.

From that time on, we started bringing Terry home every other weekend.By the end of the next year, Terry was moved
into a nursing home in the town where I worked. I frequently stopped by to see him
after work and we brought him home every weekend.

The months turned into years--five, ten, fifteen-- and people saw no improvement.Terry’s young wife got on with her life.His daughter, Amber only occasionally saw her
father as she grew up.A few people
questioned the wisdom of bringing him home every weekend but most of our family
and friends supported us.It was a
strain, but Jerry and I were united in our unwavering love for Terry.

Like a bud that blooms so slowly that its movement is imperceptible, Jerry
and I felt that our son was opening up.It was so gradual that it escaped others. There were little things like
a blink or a wink.One day, Terry
laughed.And once Terry did something,
he could continue to do it.

Driving with Terry in the car one morning, his head bobbed up and down
after I asked him a question.I paid no
attention, thinking it was the bouncing of the car that caused it.But Jerry cried out:“Look, he’s answering you.He’s shaking his head yes!” From that moment
on, Terry was able to shake his head when asked a question.Later on, he started making the sound:
“uh-huh.”

Nineteen years after the accident, on Wednesday, June 11, 2003, I walked
into Terry’s room and said “Hi, Terry,” as I always did.One of the nursing home aides asked him, “Who
is that Terry?”

“Mom,” he answered clearly.I almost
fell over I was so shocked.The aid and
I looked at each other with the same astonished expressions on our faces. Tears
of joy rolled down our laughing cheeks as we ran over and hugged Terry.

“Did you hear that?” I cried. “He said ‘Mom!’ Terry, say that again!”

Terry laughed and again said “Mom”, the most beautiful word I had ever
heard. Terry did not say another word that day, but after nineteen years, he had
spoken! His one word was more incredible
than his first “mamma” so many years before.
We brought him home for a weekend visit that Friday. I kept asking him questions that he could
answer with “Mom.” Later that day, I got
him to say “Pepsi.”

On Saturday morning, I awoke to turn him over at 4 a.m., which was a
necessary task.This was always a time
when I would talk with him.Terry was
mumbling.“I know you are trying to tell me something,” I said.“Just keep trying and I’ll catch it,” I told
him.He kept struggling until“Mom and Dad”tumbled out.

“Say it again,” I pleaded excitedly through my tears.

Terry repeated:“Mom and Dad.”

“Terry, tomorrow is Father’s Day,” I cried.“When Dad gets up, we’ll tell him what you can say.It will be his Father’s Day present from
you.”

When Jerry got up, I could not
contain my excitement. “Jerry, Terry has
a Father’s Day present for you,” I said, escorting him to Terry’s bedside. Then, very clearly, Terry spoke, “Mom and Dad.”

Jerry is not one given to emotions, but tears glistened in his eyes.“That’s the best Father’s Day present I could
have,” he said.

For breakfast, I expected Terry to ask for Pepsi--his new word--when I
asked him what he wanted to drink.Instead, he said, “Milk.”

When a nurse at the nursing home learned of all Terry’s words, she arranged
for a speech therapist to visit Terry.“Angilee, I believe he will be speaking in full sentences within a
week,” she announced.

The next week, when I walked into his room, he was telling the people
around him that his birthday was April 7, 1964.I laughed and hugged him then asked:“Terry, what else can you say?”

“Anything I want,” he answered, laughing.

By the end of August we brought Terry home to stay.I quit my job to care for him full-time.His daughter Amber is nineteen now.She comes every day to spend time with her
dad.She loves Terry just because he is
her dad.

Terry is a quadriplegic as a result of the accident.Yet, many times he has told me,”I’m so
happy.”God did want Terry to live and
now I know Terry also wanted to survive.My family is still the center of my life, butGod is also there with us.

My son’s life is a miracle.I keep
praying and trusting, that God will continue to see us all through.

###

Follow
up: Three years after he “woke up” in 2003, research on Wallis, was
published in the Journal of Clinical Investigation concluding that the nerve
fibers from the cells in Wallis’s brain remained intact. It was reported by Dr.
James Bernat, neurologist at Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center in New
Hampshire that Schiavo’s brain cells had died. Nerve cells that have not died
can form new connections although it is very rare in brain cells. The belief is
that for nineteen years, while others had given up on Wallis, he may have been
very slowly recovering as nerves in his brain formed new connections.

Still,
there was no definitive explanation as to how, after nineteen years in a coma,
Terry came out of it. His parents reported that as his recovery continues, his
old personality returned to the point that he can even make jokes. “He now
seems almost exactly like his old self. And he very often tells us how glad he
is to be alive,” Jerry Wallis said.

My aunt's 3 year old newphew just got out of a coma from an accident he had a couple of months ago. The doctor said that her baby is a "veggie" now and that they should just let him starve sinced he has no hope. I am going to send Terry's story to my aunt to pass along. I know that there is always hope and Terry's story is a true inspiration. God bless Terry and his beautiful loving family.

I will pray for your nephew and his family too. What a heartbreak, yet, there are miracles. There are also the graces of acceptance. While you are sharing, maybe this article by Randy Hain at integrated Catholic Life might help. http://www.integratedcatholiclife.org/2012/10/randy-hain-acceptance/

That is to say, stories like this always remind me of how much I take for granted when I should be so much more grateful! I am also left deeply impressed, and not a little ashamed, by those who take up such heavy crosses with good cheer, while I constantly grumble about the small and light crosses I have to carry.

This is an amazing testimony to the power of prayer, belief, God's grace. Doctors do not know everything about the human body and the full extent of a particular patient's injuries and/or ability to recover. God Bless Terry's family for holding on tight to God's hand and accepting His will, in His time. I only wish that Terry Schiavo's case had not been made so public that all competing factions for life and against life took on political and judicial involvement. Never give up trusting and knowing that God is in charge!! That also includes results not as amazing as this Terry's story. Amen.

Alexander House

Patti Maguire Armstrong

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